


Lead Me

by one_soul



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Blindfolds, Light BDSM, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:26:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8111038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_soul/pseuds/one_soul
Summary: Laurent wants to try something new





	

Damen woke to the sweet feeling of being comfortably sun-warm. Feeling like one of the spoilt palace cats, he opened his eyes and stretched.

Sitting beside him on the bed, close enough for Damen to touch, was King Laurent of Vere and New Artes. He was dressed in riding leathers and fastidiously reading a letter. 

Unable to help himself, Damen reached out a hand and touched Laurent’s warm thigh.

“At last,” Laurent said. “I thought you might sleep all day.”

“I am still recovering from my injury,” Damen said lazily. “Paschal prescribed naps.”

“Somehow I doubt that was the precise medical term he used.”

“What are you reading?” Damen asked.

Laurent looked back down at the letter, a small frown appearing on his forehead. His hair swung forward, prompting Damen to sit up and tuck it back behind his ear. Laurent was growing out his hair – at first, Damen suspected, because he simply could not find time to get it cut, then later because Damen told him repeatedly that he looked lovely, it felt like silk in his hand and did he know he was the most beautiful man alive? 

If asked, Laurent would empathically deny all evidence to the latter.

“It’s from Torveld. His daughter is to marry the Empress of Vask.”

Damen hummed in interest, his fingers playing with the ends of Laurent’s fine hair.

“We should be wary of Vask, as they are wary of us,” Laurent said. “They did not react warmly to the instatement of New Artes, even after I explained the two state system to the Empress.” 

Damen touched Laurent’s ear, thumbing the soft, silky flesh. Their high-minded ideals of joining their kingdoms had proved a logistical nightmare. Too much bad blood divided their nations. Nobles and common folk alike recoiled at the idea of declaring themselves one. Simple things like deciding on a new flag had left Damen with a splitting headache.

In the end it was Laurent who came up with a solution: a two state empire, ruled jointly from the center. Vere and Akielos could remain separate but be bound to the same overarching laws, the same decrees. Slowly, over many generations, it could merge into the one country that they had envisioned all those months ago on the road to Ios. 

Damen and Laurent had sealed the edict by marrying.

That had been three months ago. Their respective councils were happy – a joint nation allowed them to exercise more individual power. Their countries were slowly recovering from the brutalities of war. For now, the Kings had made Fortaine their temporary capital, but a new palace was being built in Delpha, on a lake between Karthas and Ravenel. It would be, Damen thought, more beautiful than both the old capitals.

Nikandros had rolled his eyes when he saw the plans and called it an excessive wedding present. He had already gifted Laurent an entire country, what more could he possibly want?

Damen regarded Laurent with warm eyes. He could gift Laurent the entire world and it would not be enough.

Laurent was still speaking. “. . .If the Empress seeks to forge closer ties with Patras then we must be on our guard, and – Damen, are you listening to me?”

His voice caught Damen just as he was about to rub Laurent’s soft earlobe between thumb and forefinger. Guilty, he paused and drew his hand back.

Laurent leveled an unimpressed blue gaze on him.

“This is serious,” he said.

“It is not serious,” Damen said. He resisted briefly, then gave in to his previous urge and stroked the soft, creamy shell of Laurent’s ear.

Laurent’s eyes closed briefly before he snapped them open again.

“You can’t know that,” he said.

“I do know that. Vask and Patras are not in collusion against us.”

Unbeknownst to anyone, Damen was in regular contact with Erasmus.

Damen moved his questing fingers to the back of Laurent’s neck and scratched there lightly, until Laurent sighed and closed his eyes. Long golden lashes fanned out across his cheeks. The dying rays of sunset caressed his profile, turning him incandescent.

There was a cat that sometimes lounged on their balcony, a beautiful white Persian with blue eyes who occasionally deigned to eat a treat from Damen’s hand. Damen liked that cat. It reminded him of Laurent.

At length Laurent opened his eyes again and looked at Damen.

“I see that you have unlocked all my weaknesses,” he said.

“I am often forced to think of inventive ways to silence you,” Damen said.

“Do you ever listen when I talk?”

“No,” Damen grinned, shameless. “I think about peeling you out of your clothes and taking you to bed.”

The slow blush that spread across Laurent’s cheeks was immensely satisfying. Damen moved closer, the sheets sliding down his chest to pool in his lap. As always, he slept nude. Laurent’s eyes flickered to his chest, slid down to his abdomen, and then away. It was unbelievably sweet that, even now, he reacted to Damen’s body like this.

Damen cupped Laurent’s face gently, tilting his face up. He had spent a lot of time in the sun recently, and his skin was darker than ever. It made a pleasing contrast against Laurent’s pale cheek.

“Kiss me,” Damen said. One golden eyebrow flickered upwards.

“A reward for bad behaviour?” Laurent said.

Damen smiled. 

“Please,” he said, pitching his voice low and throaty, the way he knew Laurent couldn’t resist.

Laurent hovered closer to him, like a moth drawn to flames. Their lips met in a slow kiss that made Damen dizzy with desire.

Their court gossiped a lot about them. Laurent was unchanged in public after their marriage, still austere, exacting and cold, except now he had the authority of a King and utilized it with ruthless efficiency. He still dressed in tight-laced Veretian clothing more often than not, unswayed by the hybrid fashions that had sprung up in the newly joined court. How was it, their courtiers whispered, that King Damianos could dote on one so ice-cold, could gaze so lovingly at King Laurent’s impassive profile. The constant speculation about their relationship had progressed to rumors about the nature of their marriage, how they fucked, how often they fucked – indeed, if they even fucked at all, their union having been steeped in so much political acumen.

They didn’t know. They would never see Laurent like this, exposed by all the sweetness that lay beneath his cool exterior. They would never experience the way he kissed, shy and achingly giving.

Laurent drew back and licked his lips. Unwilling to part completely, Damen bent his head and kissed Laurent’s neck.

“Can we,” he said, his intentions clear. It was still an hour or two before dinner. They had time.

“I want to try something new,” Laurent said.

Damen drew back and looked at him inquiringly. Without looking away from him, Laurent reached for the bed curtains and pulled at the narrow velvet cloth that held them. They swung down, partially obscuring the bed.

Laurent lifted the cloth and just felt it in his hands for a second. Damen’s breath shallowed when he realised what Laurent was about to do. With one last, piercing look, Laurent closed his eyes and blindfolded himself.

Damen swallowed, hard. He sometimes fantasised about things he would like to do with Laurent, wild, uninhibited things that could find no expression in reality because Laurent, by both nature and nurture, was still restrained in bed.

This was surpassing some of Damen’s fantasies. Laurent, blindfolded and at the mercy of his senses. He scarcely knew where to begin touching first.

“Undress me,” Laurent said.

Damen moved automatically to obey. He took care to caress each swathe of creamy skin as it was revealed, dropping kisses on Laurent’s shoulders, neck, chest, and then lower, on his stomach and thighs. Laurent reached blindly for him and drew him back up, and they kissed until Damen couldn’t breathe anymore, until they were grinding mindlessly against each other. Damen lifted Laurent into his lap and Laurent’s arms wrapped around his neck. His mouth opened, allowing Damen’s tongue inside. 

After several blissful minutes of this he lay Laurent down on the bed, angling him so his head was on the pillow and Damen was between his thighs.

Laurent squirmed, flushed and panting. He was always sensitive to touch, but now with his senses heightened he was quivering under every brush of Damen’s fingers. He was also unmistakably aroused.

Damen lowered his head and took Laurent in his mouth. He felt more than heard Laurent’s gasp of surprise – he had given no warning, and Laurent was always weak to this particular act. Damen suckled the head, pleased at the soft almost-whimper that emerged from Laurent’s mouth. He slid lower, taking Laurent down his throat, the taste of precome in his mouth.

It was a shock to feel Laurent’s fingers suddenly in his hair, pushing into the thick mass of curls and holding on. Damen almost choked, then drew back slowly and tongued the slit. Laurent never took his head when Damen performed this act. The fact of it now was making Damen leak against the sheets.

Encouraged, he renewed his efforts. Laurent shifted under him, thighs trembling. His tiny, gasping sounds of pleasure were incredibly hot. He didn’t try to guide Damen’s head, simply held on as he shuddered and shuddered and then with a final, gasped “Damen!” spilled into his mouth.

Damen swallowed him down. He lifted his head and stared at the pretty, decadent picture his husband made. Laurent’s chest was heaving, his hair in disarray from his thrashing in those final moments. The blindfold was still in place, and beneath it his lips seemed incredibly red. Damen’s heart performed a funny little flip in his chest.

“You’ve never done that before,” he said, wonderingly.

Laurent was quiet for a long time, perhaps catching his breath. When he spoke at length his voice was clear.

“I never want you to be uncomfortable,” Laurent said.

Damen felt the air around them change, his own arousal abruptly forgotten. They had strayed suddenly into dangerous waters, except that he could tell from the look on Laurent’s face that there was nothing sudden about it.

They hadn’t talked about this, since that ill-fated day at the Kingsmeet. He could discuss any topic with Laurent, except this. They had no secrets from each other, except this. Sometimes, late at night after Laurent was asleep, Damen would lay awake and think back on all the tiny obvious ways the truth had been before him all along. He would curse himself for a fool, and hold Laurent tighter in his arms. It had given him several sleepless nights.

Damen realised they were going to talk about it right now, right here, with the taste of Laurent’s come still in his mouth. He wanted to say _don’t_ , and was powerless to stop it.

“I was fourteen the first time he fucked me,” Laurent said.

All the breath left Damen’s body. His hands clenched in the sheets as he struggled to bring himself under control. He knew Laurent could feel his reaction, because he set his mouth in a thin line and turned his head, the line of his neck stiff with tension.

“We stayed at Chastillion for several months that year. At first I was. . .confused by what was happening. I knew deep down that it was wrong, but I was alone and my uncle was the only family I had left and he said he loved me. It is not wrong to love your family.”

It was the blindfold, Damen realised dazedly. Laurent couldn’t say these things to him and also whether his reaction. It was impossible to school his features; he knew, distantly, that his expression must be a mixture of disgust and horror. Laurent had known he wouldn’t be able to control his reaction, and so had done the only thing that could get them both through this: he had blinded himself to it.

“He was always. . .utilitarian about it,” Laurent said. His voice had grown distant. “Just simple fucking. Sometimes he would use my mouth. It wasn’t overly romantic, but at the time I had nothing to compare it to. I didn’t particularly like it, but I didn’t resist him. After all, I had asked him to stay the night with me. This was what men and women did in bed. I had stopped being a child the moment Auguste died, and so I should accept this as a man would.”

Damen made a helpless, choked sound and closed his eyes. He couldn’t stop the hot prickle of shame that crept through his body. He wished, for the first time, that Auguste had been the better swordsman.

Laurent’s head turned towards him at the sound. He reached out and after a few fumbling attempts located Damen’s hand. Their palms pressed together tightly, and it meant more than any words of forgiveness Laurent could have spoken.

“Paschal would attend me sometimes, afterwards,” Laurent said, and his voice was softer now. “He would ask me, quietly and without censure, if I had enjoyed it, if I was able to come, if I had explicitly asked my uncle to fuck me. I never answered him, and it wasn’t until a few months later that I actually started hearing what he was asking. I didn’t ask my uncle to spend the night with me again.”

Damen realised he was holding Laurent’s hand so hard he was in danger of crushing it. He forced his grip to loosen and let out a deep breath.

“Laurent – ” he began, but Laurent wasn’t finished.

“I am telling you this, Damen, not to hurt you but because I want you to know how it was. He did not force me. It was not violent.” Laurent took a deep breath, and Damen suddenly knew he was about to hear the real reason Laurent had broached this topic. “I know,” Laurent said hesitantly. “That it is your preference to make love gently. But I also know that sometimes, when you are in a different mood, you hold yourself back for my sake. I am not a porcelain doll that will break from rough treatment. You do not risk stirring unwelcome memories if you treat me ungently.”

There was a long pause as Damen processed this.

“If I am gentle,” Damen said carefully. “It is only because I am thinking of your comfort.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on Laurent’s face. “I know that too. But while you are thinking of me, know that I am thinking of you.”

Breathless, aching, Damen took hold of Laurent’s wrists and raised them over his head. He lowered himself until he was hovering over Laurent, the warmth of Laurent’s thigh pressed against his flank.

“Are you asking me,” he said, voice faintly amused. “To be rough with you?”

Laurent flushed bright red, but his voice was steady when he answered. “Yes.”

“Masochism?” Damen said.

“Let’s call it curiosity.”

Damen let his lips trail to Laurent’s ear. “I love you,” he whispered. Laurent’s breath hitched. “And I am going to fuck you the way you want to be fucked.”

He felt Laurent’s physical reaction to that, hardness pressing against his hip. Damen smiled and sat up.

“Don’t move,” he said in a new, harder voice. Laurent stilled, arms still held obediently above his head. He was spread out on the bed like some virginal offering to an amorous god. 

Damen took hold of his thighs and pushed them apart, stretching Laurent out. He fumbled at their bedside for oil – they were always well-stocked, the servants having quickly realised that otherwise their Kings would make do with whatever was handy. Three smashed oil lamps later someone had put their foot down and now they had more oil at hand than even King Damianos and King Laurent could finish in one night. 

Laurent’s breath had shallowed in anticipation. Damen unstoppered a bottle and the faint scent of orange blossoms spilled out. Pleased, he coated his fingers and slid two into Laurent without warning.

Laurent jerked, then let out a soft, low sound as Damen worked him open. He was so tight, even after months of almost daily fucking. Damen pushed in a third finger and Laurent shuddered, twisting under him, pushing back against his fingers.

“Damen,” he breathed. Then, after several minutes of this slow torture and his arousal was dripping on his stomach – “ _Please._ ”

Damen almost shot off right there. The night had been emotionally taxing, and now Laurent was begging him. Another first, one that left him aching for more.

He twisted his fingers inside Laurent and growled out, “Say it again.”

Laurent’s head thrashed, his inherent defiance flaring. “I won’t,” he said.

“Say it again or I won’t fuck you.”

“ _Damen_ ,” Laurent almost groaned, clenching around him. He was so hot Damen thought he might not be able to hold out, he might just come like this – 

“Damen, please,” Laurent said.

Damen removed his fingers, took hold of Laurent’s thighs and entered him in a single hard thrust.

Laurent cried out. It was a soft sound, but from Laurent it was a scream. Damen didn’t give him time to adjust; he took Laurent roughly, the way he had requested, with all the desperate, unquenchable desire Laurent woke in him. Laurent was pushed up the bed with each thrust, his breathing ragged. He was forced to take hold of Damen’s shoulders, nails digging in as they moved together. Damen took his mouth in a harsh, deep kiss. When he pulled away Laurent’s lip was bleeding.

Harder, and Laurent’s breath morphed into a continuous stream of whimpers. He seemed unaware of what sounds he was making, completely abandoned, his body given over entirely for Damen to pleasure. Damen knew he was hitting that spot, because Laurent became louder with each thrust and his cock leaked precome on his stomach. There was a deep, primal urge in Damen to make Laurent his, to scorch away the memory of what had come before him.

“Laurent,” he gasped. His hands were leaving bruises on Laurent’s pale thighs. He couldn’t stop.

“I’m – ” Laurent panted. “I’m going to – ”

And that was all he managed before he was arching and spilling between them, untouched, his nails digging scratches into Damen’s shoulders. Damen barely registered it; he was so close, and in the last moments before he came he gave in to a long-suppressed desire and bit Laurent’s neck.

Laurent made a sound and clutched him. Damen pulsed, shooting deep inside him. His teeth bit hard into Laurent’s beautiful neck. He sucked on the bite, drawing blood to the surface, knowing it would be exquisitely bruised within minutes. When he pulled away Laurent’s lips were parted and he was trembling. 

Damen parted from him with a soft moan, then reached up and untied the blindfold. Laurent flinched in the dim light, blinking rapidly until his vision adjusted. Damen kissed the corner of his eye, tasting tears, and said nothing.

Laurent looked up at him, bright-eyed and bruised, and rested a hand on Damen’s neck.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

\- - -

The next day the court vibrated with gossip.

King Laurent had appeared that morning in a low-cut, sleeveless vest, a rare concession to the latest fashion trends. It was made up in intricate red and gold laces and showed off, in all its crowning glory, a deep purple love bite on his neck. 

Court gossip also reported that when King Damianos had entered the throne room and seen him he had flushed so deeply even his dark skin had showed it.

“Next time,” Laurent murmured as Damen carefully took the throne beside him. “You should tie me up.”


End file.
